Sophie turns on her. ‘Nor should there be, we’ve worked our butts off and delivered her a stunning event in next to no time.’
Nell’s got a triumphant shine to her eyes as she flattens herself against the bookcase and makes her way around the room edge towards us. ‘The sorbet’s going down a storm. And everyone’s blown away by how quirky and colourful the flat is.’ She waggles a sheaf of papers at Sophie. ‘Here, I brought you the quiz.’
Sophie jumps for the sheets, then dips into the kitchen for her bag. ‘Ooo, this is me, I’ve raided Tilly’s felt tip box for pens.’ She strides as far into the living room as she can, which is approximately one step. Then she claps her hands and puts on her ‘don’t mess with Mummy’ face. ‘Okay, quizzes coming round. Grab a partner, or work in twos, threes or fours. Anything goes,so long as everyone joins in.’
I’m mystified and horrified in equal measure. ‘What’s this?’ I know zilch about anything so party games are my pet hate, especially when participation’s non-negotiable. And Sophie’s sounding insistent.
Nell waves away my concern. ‘Don’t worry, you’re excused. Quizzes are a singles’ tradition. We even do them when we’re whale watching or out on walks. Collaboration’s excellent for pair bonding, and not everyone hates trivia as much as you.’
I’m glad she remembered. ‘How do you not run out of questions?’
It seems like a valid point, but she ignores it. ‘It’ll give us breathing space to circulate with more drinks and get the next round of sorbets ready.’ She has to be talking metaphorically about the space because truly, there isn’t any.
‘Okay, I’ll look after fizz and scooping.’
Which is exactly what I do, with as much washing up as I can manage in between. Sophie’s apologising for the endless stream of glasses she’s bringing in, but for someone like me who’s used to working a busy bar, that part’s a picnic. When I finally have a second to look at my phone, it’s already eleven, and the guests are sighing over cups filled with raspberry and mango ices.
As I make my way to the open door, dip under the silk scarf and slide out into the soft darkness of the balcony for a few seconds of quiet, there are so many compliments drifting past me I’m almost blushing: ‘… sooooo pretty, I could eat them all over again’ ‘… saving the best ’til last’ ‘… the icy mango is orgasmic …’
I know I’ve had so much help, but there’s a warm feeling spreading through my chest that’s due to much more than too many gins. It isn’t over yet, but for now I couldn’t be any happier. I can’t help a flutter of excitement when I think Nell, Plum and Sophie’s crazy ‘pop up’ idea might actually work.
Even though the sorbets are going down brilliantly, Nell’s full-on coupling strategies are doing less well, and that’s what everyone’s here for. From where I’m standing it looks as if the evening’s coming to a close with the women swaying on the rugs scraping the pattern off their china cups, and the guys flopped onto the chairs and sofas doing the same. At least with fewer people standing up, there are air gaps between the bodies. Although at this stage of the event, with Plum making the rounds with the last serving of gin fizz, that’s not such a good thing. As far as couples in clinches go, it looks like I’m going to miss out on my Cupid.
A sudden crash makes me look along to where light from Charlie’s flat is pooling out onto the balcony through his open doors. There’s another bump, and as I see the blurred shape coming towards me it clicks. ‘Pancake?’ As a pale brown fluff ball hurtles over my feet there’s an anguished squawk, a soft swish of tail brushing against my leg, then a cloud of claws and splinters as she does a ninety degree turn and flings herself into the living room.
I open my mouth to shout ‘watch out for the cat’ to the sea of legs inside, but a much larger shape comes clattering along the balcony. ‘Diesel, sto——-p!’
His paws, tongue and ears are all flapping, and he covers the length of the balcony in three strides. As he skids towards me he changes course, comes to a momentary halt in a heap in front of my doors. Then with one massive bound he leaps into the flat after Pancake. As I dive after him to warn people, I’m already too late. He’s forging a path across the floor, felling women as he goes. As Diesel’s tail disappears into the hall, the guests are toppling off their heels wailing as they wave their arms. Squealing as they fall. Crashing into side tables, sending gin glasses flying. Cups are arcing through the air, clattering as they hit the wall. People are landing on top of other people at angles, in random piles.
As I pause to gasp a lump of raspberry sorbet smacks onto my boob, slithers down my skirt, and squishes onto my strappy sandal. I’m crouching at floor level, scrabbling to clean it up when some familiar tanned toes arrive next to mine. I get as far as the ankle bone, then follow the faded jeans up to a T shirt and a flash of tanned torso.
I close my eyes as my head spins. Then I shake my head and make myself focus. ‘Charlie. How can I help?’ My heart’s beating double speed and sinking at the same time, and I’m almost throwing up.
His brow knits as he stares around at the mayhem. ‘I came to ask if you’d seen Diesel. But obviously, he’s not here.’ He hesitates as he spins to leave. ‘If you’d said you were having an orgy I’d have stayed at my end of the balcony. You do know this isn’t acceptable?’
I stagger to my feet. ‘What’s unacceptable is your dog galloping through my living room breaking up my party. And in case you’re wondering, Pancake’s here too. And it’s not a sex fest.’
Nell appears in the hall doorway, hauling Diesel by the collar. ‘Is this your missing boy? The cat’s hiding under the bath, we’ve closed the door until she feels safe to come out.’ I’ve no idea why she’s being so polite.
‘Jeez, Diesel.’ He looks satisfyingly shell-shocked.
As I look around, the piles of bodies on the sofas and chairs are realigning. Where a second ago I was staring at a mass of limbs, some of the women are making themselves comfy on guys’ knees.
Nell’s beaming, and as she crosses the room and hands Diesel over her cheeks are definitely extra rosy. ‘No harm done, Charlie. Diesel certainly got people mingling, the floor hasn’t been this empty all evening.’ She grins round at the guests, who, to be fair, look completely unbothered to be stacked on top of each other. ‘As an icebreaker that was even better than musical chairs. We must try it again some time.’
Charlie shrugs, but he’s staring at my mouth. ‘Did you know your lips are exactly the same colour as that lump of sorbet running down the wall?’
‘And?’ I work bars, I take banter without flinching. So, there’s no reason at all why I should be feeling hot around my Peter Pan collar. I’m wracking my brain for a way to serve the cheek back tenfold when I remember if it hadn’t been for Charlie’s mega-freezer there wouldn’t have been sorbet or a party. So, I bite back my anger. ‘Get Diesel out of here, we’ll let you off the tidying.’
Nell chips in. ‘The club usually clears at events. Washing up is a very interactive way to end to a night.’
‘Plum and I have got this covered. It’s mostly done anyway.’ I’m looking for a way to say that now the party’s been literally flattened I’d like to be left on my own.
And damn that Charlie’s still there. Hanging on Nell’s every word. ‘Club?’
I’m on it in a flash. ‘Most of my friends are unattached, Charlie, obviously, there’s some crossover.’ Sometimes the best way to hide something is to draw attention to it. ‘Remember Nell’s Singles’ leaflet? The one you weren’t interested in?’ The one that definitely isn’tanythingto do with tonight.
‘Sure.’ His tone says he’s not buying it. ‘Well whoever you are, try to leave quietly. The Airbnb flats are let tonight and the local Tourist Board are trying to keep the ratings high. You’ve already caused enough mayhem for one evening.’
